


Improper proposal

by majicienne



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Movie AU, No Twincest, The Proposal AU, actually no cersei
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 03:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20369887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majicienne/pseuds/majicienne
Summary: Brienne of Tarth wants to be an editor, and if that means putting up with her boss' shit, then she'll be the best at tolerating him. One day, Jaime needs something from her that is too much too ask. Her citizenship.Brienne agrees on a series of demands, the first of them is that Jaime goes to visit Tarth with her. She's more than earned that vacation.





	1. A regular morning

Brienne was incredibly late. She had two alarms and heard neither, so engrossed she had been in the novel she was reading. And now she was rushing to SandBucks, wondering vaguely if it was illegal to threaten bodily harm to hipsters holding up the line.  
– Brienne! – Came the excited voice of Tormund, the barista. The man with the most impressive beard she had ever seen. He was always nice to her in a way that seem over the top, but today she was immensely grateful, seen him hand her her sual order: two identical tchai teas.  
– Thank you so much! – She rushed to the beginning of the line, so relieved she didn’t care about the hateful looks people were sending her. – I owe you big time! – And then she was off again, thanking her muscles and her long legs for once in her life.

When she was inside the elevator she couldn’t believe her luck. She made it on time. She-  
And then everything went to hells. Loras had rushed inside as she ran out and the collision had resulted in a huge, painfully warm stain that was covering her crisp white shirt. 

– Fuck, Brie, I’m so sorry, I’m… – The beautiful man started saying.  
– Just go. – Barked the even more beautiful Renly behind him. Brienne still blushed sometimes when she saw him, remembered the very embarrassing crush she used to have on him. She felt the color rushing to her face now, but because she had to ask him for a favor.

– Ren, lend me your shirt. – She commanded.  
Renly threw her a lascivious grin. – What’s in it for me? –  
– I’ll get you reservations for that Dornish place you and Loras like. –  
– Deal. – He smiled.

That’s how Brienne found herself barely on time, one tea short, and cramped on a shirt that barely buttoned around her square shoulders. But on time. 

Jaime Lannister was sitting behind his huge desk, typing away at his computer, surprisingly fast for a man with only one hand. Brienne didn’t know the origin of the injury. And his brother Tyrion, refused to tell her once with such uncharacteristic seriousness that she never asked again. 

– Wench, where’s my tea? – He asked, without stopping.  
– My name is Brienne. Here. – She placed the cup down. And turned around to go through Lannister’s emails.  
– Who’s Tormund and why does he want me to call him? – Her boss interrupted her retreat. Brienne blushed beet red. Why did he picked today to give her his number. His unrequited number.  
– No need to blush, wench. Well, not about that. Do you always order a tchai with almond milk, extra foam, and two caramel spirals? – He snarked at her, a smirk that looked threatening on his face.  
– It’s like Christmas in a cup. – She deadpanned. – Tywin wants you in his office in twenty. –

Jaime stood up. He was almost as tall as his PA and equally striking but for the opposite reasons. Where Brienne was buff and heavy, he was lean and graceful. His hair was lush and golden. His nose had not been broken twice. The only physical imperfection he has was his stump, and that only because he refused to wear prosthetics. 

– Very well, we just have to run an errand first. – He turned around to pick his suit’s jacket. Brienne took advantage of his distraction and texted the unofficial office chat: “The Lion is on the prowl”. She could here the raucous outside as everyone scattered to do what they were supposed to be doing and clearing the hallways as fast as humanly possible.

– Jaime, did you read the manuscript I gave you? – She asked while they excited the office. They walked side by side, Jaime appreciating that she could keep up with his brisk pace.

– I did. Well, – He interrupted himself and Brienne’s stomach jumped to her throat as he continued. – I tried. I fell asleep around page 15. –  
– Jaime, I’ve never passed you a single manuscript before, it is really good. – Brienne was gritting her teeth and clenching and unclenching her fists behind her back.  
– I’m sorry your first attempt was boring, wench. Ah, we are here. – He stopped in front of Osmund’s office.

He strode into the office like he owned it, and Osmund stood up to greet him, a phony smile on his face. 

– Osmund, glad to see you. I’m here to talk to you about Qyburn. I just got him to do an interview with Varys. –

Osmund lost all the color from his face. – Jaimie, he hasn’t done an interview in twenty years. –

Jaimie’s triumphant smirk widened. Brienne suddenly knew what was coming and started shaking her head at Osmund behind her boss’ back. She didn’t know. 

– I know. You are his editor, you should have done it. You didn’t even call him. So I had to. I’m here to let you know that your services will no longer be needed, you have two months to find another job, then you can tell everyone you resigned. – With that Jaime left the office.

– Well, wench. Tell me how he’s taking it. And move that lovely sword display into my office. – He instructed over his shoulder to Brienne without breaking his stride.

Brienne craned her neck, her height giving her a superior vantage point over the bullpen. Osmund was pacing his office, fuming. 

– He looks like his about to go off. – She reported.  
– Don’t do it, Osmund. – Jaime lowered his head, speaking in hushed tones.

– You fucking asshole! – The man was redder than Brienne and that was a fit on itself. Jaime turned around to listen to the tirade. – Just because you think you’re better than the rest of us because daddy has your job covered for life! What good is it when you pour yourself into being the shiniest, most golden Lannister only to have no life outside of this building.

Jaime had gone eerily silent. His face showed no emotion. But Brienne could see the muscles of his shoulders tense, his chin jutted forwards just barely. 

– I applied for this job like everyone else. I fired you because you didn’t complete your assignment and you are too busy chasing skirts to pick up the damned phone. I gave you enough time to do this decently. If you don’t stop now I’ll be forced to call security, or better yet, I’ll make Brienne throw you out. – Brienne looked up at that. She did not want to hit anyone. Well, maybe Jaime.

– At least I didn’t ruin anyone’s career for my position, Kingslayer. – Osmund threw a final blow.

The anger radiating off Jaime was cold as ice and harsh as fire. 

That's when security showed up. Osmund Kettleblack never emptied his own office.


	2. We are what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime plays "improv to safe our jobs" with Brienne. She gets her revenge.

– Move along, wench. We need to get to the higher-ups office. – Jaime was as cool as ever after almost blowing a fuse. Even if he had gone to the restroom to wash his face. Brienne admired it a little.  
– My name is Brienne. – She reminded him uselessly. – I wanted to remind you that I’m going out of town this weekend, it’s… –  
– I need you to stay, actually. – Jaime said.  
– What?! – Brienne’s eyebrows shot up and her too wide mouth opened wide. – Jaime, we agreed, it’s my grandmother’s birthday and-  
– Look, wench. I know you want that promotion, and I need you here this weekend, so what’s it going to be? –  
Brienne clenched her fists and shut her mouth. Then she nodded. 

Jaimie motioned for her to lead the way and when they were in front of the door he stopped and instructed:  
– All right, _Brienne_ – He snarked. – Come and get me in five minutes, with some editorial crisis. –  
Brienne nodded and went to thank Renly again for his shirt. 

Jaime took a deep breath and entered his father’s office. Tyrion was already there, looking as anxious as Tyrion could look. Tywin looked the same as always, neutral and cold. 

– Ah, dear brother, thank you for coming. – Tyrion said, without the customary smirk on his face. That was the first red flag for Jaime. The second was that Tywin actually looked away from his monitor an into Jaime’s eyes.

– Jaime. It’s come to my attention that you disobeyed my specific instructions and flew to Dorne for their Book Fair. – He said, and his eyes didn’t glimmer, but they were sharp enough. – As you well know, the Martells have no appreciation for us. Which is why I asked you not to go. –

Jaime looked to his little brother for an explanation about what was fucking going on. Tyrion looked apologetic and irritated. – You don’t have your working visa up to date. – Here he paused to send Tywin a look full of resentment. – You’re going to have to go back to Casterly. –

– I have to what? – Jaime said, absolutely horrified. He had sworn to never return to the Rock, to never become whatever the hell his father wanted him to be. – This is bullshit. I’m a Lannister, not some Lysenni ex-con. There has to be a way to fix this. –

Tywin didn’t look smug per se because that was a human facial expression. But he came close. – Well, unless you have some way to extend a work visa into an actual permanence to Westeros, I think I’ll give your position to Osmund. He’s had excellent reviews. – 

– Osmund? Osmund Kettleblack who I fired 20 minutes ago? Father, you- 

Brienne interrupted by opening the door. Brienne that had done everything Jaime had asked of her in the last three years with ruthless efficiently, Brienne that was about to become his knight in shining armor. 

– I’m sorry, Mr. Lannister, Mr. Tyrion, but I need him on a call in ten minutes. – She said with her sweet voice that didn’t sound right coming from such a hulking figure.

– Brienne, come over here, please. – said Jaime in a tone that usually made women melt. Brienne just blinked at him. – I was just telling Father the news. –

– The news? – Brienne repeated, looking nervous, Jaime hoped that it was passable as “meeting-the-in-laws” jitters, while she walked a little bit further into the room.

Jaime didn’t reply, he turned to face his Father once again, he shot a pleading look to Tyrion and began saying: – I think we have a solution to all of our problems. – He started walking backwards to where Brienne was still standing. He paused next to her, awkward as he never was. – Father, I have to tell you something. We, – he made a vague gesture towards Brienne – are getting married. – 

– Who’s getting married? – Brienne’s face was oddly blank, meaning she was trying to understand the absurdity she was hearing.

– You and I. – Replied Jaime firmly. – You and I are getting married. Yes. – The smile on his face was starting go cramp from the falseness of it.

– We are. – Brienne repeated, dumbly.  
– Getting married. – Jaime finished for her.  
– We are getting married. – Brienne nodded.

The only pleasure Jaime derived from the conversation was seeing his father almost break. Tywin bent forward on his desk, his fingers curling and uncurling, looking at Brienne like her sole existence was a personal affront. Tyrion leaned back and stared at Jaime with a look that was doubtful. As if he couldn’t phantom a way in which Jaime could possibly pull this off. 

– Isn’t she your secretary? – Tyrion said, a tone almost sweet. Jaime wanted to strangle him.  
– Assistant. – Brienne corrected, old feuds bringing her slowly back to the realm of the living.  
– Executive assistant… secretary. – Jaime said, and then he added “titles” in an incredible display of stupidness. – But it wouldn’t be the first time one of us fell for our secretaries, would it be, Tyrion? – There, he was not stupid.  
Tyrion looked affronted and Tywin turned around to look at him. – With Tysha, remember? – Jaime finished, oh so helpfully. Tywin gave a tiny nod.  
– So, the truth is, – Jaime gave himself a pause to gather his thoughts, Brienne was still rigidly beside him. – You know, Brienne and I… we are just two people who shouldn’t have fallen in love but we did. –  
– No. – Brienne spoke suddenly, slowly shaking her head, as if she was trying to clear the remnants of some bizarre dream (nightmare?) out of her head.  
– We did. – Jaime’s tone was very Lannister. Firm, certain. – All those late nights at the office, the book fair weekends. –  
– No. – Brienne repeated and she turned to look at him, her blue eyes searching for what, exactly?  
– Something happened. – He said a little desperately.  
– Something. – He didn’t knot the exact signs of shock but he was sure Brienne was going through them.  
– Yeah, tried to fight it. But you can’t fight a love like ours! – Jaime said cheerfully, while giving Brienne a light pat on the back and then moving to put his arm around her broad shoulders, briefly.  
– So, are you happy with this? – He asked his father, who’s eyes looked mirthful. – Because, we are happy, so happy. –  
Brienne, seven bless her, was trying to form any expression and failing miserably.  
– Jaime? – Said Tywin, something flashed in his eyes. – Make it legal. – An order.  
– Of course. We should get ourselves to the immigration office. – Jaime said and bodily dragged Brienne out of the room.

The second they were in the hall the office chat started buzzing. 

Shae: Brie and Jaimie are getting married?!  
Taena: Lion tamer!!  
Renly: WHAT?! What is she thinking?  
Loras: Married?! Are they even dating? 

Brienne was helplessly trailing behind Jaime, her colleagues’ pity and curiosity hitting her in waves. When they reached his office she shut the isolating doors behind them and stood at his desk. The reality of her situation crashing down. Jaime just sat down at his desk and pretended she wasn’t there. 

– What? – He was never good at silence.  
– I don’t understand what’s happening. – Brienne deadpanned.  
– Relax, wench. This is for you, too. – Jaime projected confidence.  
– How, in the seven hells, is this for me? – Brienne was getting fed up.  
– They were going to make Kettleblack chief. – As if that said it all.  
– So, of course, logically, I have to marry you. – Snapped Brienne.  
– Besides, what’s the problem? – Jaime was getting fed up too. – Are you saving yourself for someone special? – He said it as if the very idea made him sick.  
– I’d like to think so. – Brienne had been with enough assholes to realise that it was a healthy relationship or none at all. – There’s also the fact that it’s illegal. – She knew Jaime was a stranger to law of any kind but this was obvious.  
– They’re looking for mercenaries. – Jaime scoffed. – Not editors. –  
– Jaime. – Brienne said, and she waited.  
– Yes? – He finally lifted his gaze from the manuscript he was pretending to read.  
– I’m not going to marry you. – She enunciated, as if talking to a particularly dense child.  
– Of course you are, wench. – Her boss shot her the trademarked Lannister smile: sharp and false. – Because if you don’t marry me, your dreams of bringing daring sword-fights, people in distress, and dashing romances to the lives of millions are dead. –

Brienne paused for a moment, weighing her options. Jaimie didn’t understand what was so complicated, he was easy on the eyes and a catch in general terms. Still, better to lay it in thick:

– The second I’m gone Osmund will fire you. I swear. That means you’ll be out in the streets of KL, looking for a job. Right back where you started. –

Brienne’s chest was rising and falling, Jaime dealt the killing blow. – Imagine that, wench. All the time we spent together, all the teas, the midnight reviews, the cancelled vacations… all for nothing. Just a dead dream and wasted time. – 

Brienne looked at him like she would like nothing else in the world than to beat him bloody. Jaime hurried up: – But don’t worry, after the required time we can get a quickie divorce and you never have to deal with me, but until that day comes we are tied together. – _Yield, wench._

Brienne was still reeling when they got to the immigration’s office. She brought herself back to protest when she saw Jaimie cutting the line.  
– Jaimie! The line! – She hissed.  
– Just come! – He hissed back.  
– Sorry, just a second. – He grinned to the woman behind him. – I need for you to file this fiancé visa for me, please. – He said to the clerk.  
The man looked unimpressed but also like he didn’t have the will to live, much less argue.  
– Come with me, Mr. Lannister. – He stepped outside the cubicle and led the way to a small office.

The nerves that her boss should be feeling were settling themselves on Brienne’s stomach.  
– I have a bad feeling about this. –  
Before Jaimie could acknowledge her, not that he was going to, a non-descript looking man came into the room.  
– Hello, I’m Mr. Frey. You must be Jaimie. – He said cooly. – And you must be Brienne. – There was more warmth in his tone but not in his eyes. –  
Jaimie attempted to charm the man with platitudes and fake gratitude.  
– Ok. – Frey said after Jaime was done. – I have a quick question for you: Are you committing fraud to avoid his deportation so he can keep his position? – The question was for both of them but he was staring at Brienne.  
– That’s ridiculous. – She said as if it was that and not, well, the truth.  
– Where did you hear that? – Jaime looked angry, not tense.  
– We had a tip from a certain-  
– Osmund Kettleblack. – Said Jaime, thinking fast.  
– Indeed. – Frey’s beady eyes seemed amused.  
– I’m sorry he wasted your time, then. Osmund is a former employee that is obviously trying to get some form of revenge. I know you’re busy, however, probably have a lot of interviews with Lyseni waitresses and cooks. If you could tell us the next thing to do we can release you for that.

Brienne’s whole face contorted, she couldn’t help it. Frey wasn’t doing much better in hiding his contempt. 

– Please sit down Mr. Lannister. – There was no request there. Jaimie did so, reluctantly. – There are several steps to this process. The first would be scheduling an interview. – The mirth returned to his expression. – I’ll put each of you in a room and I’ll ask absolutely every single question that I can think of that you should know the answers to. Then there’s the hands-in approach. I look at your phone records, interview neighbors, coworkers, and friends. – He paused for effect. – If your answers aren’t exactly the same I’ll deport him indefinitely- He pointed at Jaime who just leaned farther back in his char and smirked – And you, missy would have committed a crime punishable by a fine of 250, 000 dragons and five years in federal prison. –

Brienne felt a numbness take whole of her gut and wondered if she was having a particularly bad fever induced nightmare. 

– So, Brienne, – the weasel of a man winked at her. – Anything you’d like to say to me? –

First she shook her head, then she nodded, Jaimie was getting angsty next to her. 

– The truth is, Mr. Frey. – She paused to swallow and started over. – The truth is, that Jaime and I… we are just two people who shouldn’t have fallen in love but we did. – Jaimie looked unbearably smug.  
Brienne had had enough. – We couldn’t tell anyone at work because of my big promotion coming up. – _Take that, Lannister._  
– Promotion? – Frey interjected.  
– We,- she bent slightly to put her hand on Jaimie’s knee- both felt that it would be incredibly inappropriate if I was promoted to editor-  
– Editor. – Jaimie repeated and there was a begrudging respect in his eyes.  
-while we were… – Brienne made a gesture that encompassed herself and Jaimie.  
– Uh huh. And have you told your parents about your secret love? – He inquired.  
– We told my father and brother recently. – Said Jaimie.  
– And your parents? – Frey asked Brienne.  
– We were actually going to tell them this weekend. – Jaimie said before Brienne could answer. – It’s her grandmother’s birthday, the whole brood is getting together. We’d thought it’d be a present of sorts. – Brienne had never been so outraged in her life.  
– Where is this reunion taking place? – Frey jumped in.  
– At her family’s house. – Jaimie replied shortly.  
– That is located where, exactly? – Frey pushed.  
– Sweetling, – Jaimie looked at Brienne – why am I doing all the talking?

_Because you’re pathologically unable to shut the fuck up._ She simply smiled. – In Tarth. –  
– Tarth, yes. – Said Jaimie, who evidently had not pegged Brienne for an islander.  
– You’re going to Tarth this weekend? – Frey sounded as skeptical as Jaime felt.  
– Yes. We are going to Tarth. Because Tarth is where my baby is from. Tarth. – He accompanied his speech with what Brienne supposed was an attempt to caress her face, it felt more like being poked.

Frey looked from Brienne to Jaimie, a knowing smirk in his face. – Alright, if that’s how you want it to go. I’ll see you on Monday at 11 am. –

After the goodbyes were said, by Brienne as Jaimie decided that moment would be good for a phone call, Brienne waited for Jaimie outside the office. She wasn’t confused anymore, she was angry. Scratch that, she was furious. She felt tension in her teeth giving her a headache. How dared he? Lording her dream over her like a carrot on a stick? 

– Okay. We’ll go down there, pretend to be hopelessly in love with each other, which shouldn’t be hard in your case, tell your family we’re getting engaged and prepare for the interviews. We’ll fly there, I hate boats and I need you to see if… Brienne, are you listening? –  
– Are you insane or were we not in the same room? – Brienne snapped.  
– What, wench? Are you talking about your fake promotion? That was a stroke of genius. Didn’t know you had it in you. – He went back to his phone.  
– I meant it! I could do jail time, never mind the stupid fine. – Brienne needed him to realise that he didn’t have all the chips and that there was more on the line than his position.  
– Wench, there is no way I’ll promote you to editor. – He said as if it was a grand joke.  
– Then I quit and you’re fucked. Bye, Jaimie. – She started turning around enjoying being able to swear at him.  
– Brienne! – He said, shocked.  
– It was a blast. – Brienne said over her shoulder.  
– Brienne, Brienne! – Jaimie sounded the right tone of panicked now. – Fine. I’ll make you editor! –  
Brienne turned back slowly.  
– If you do the Tarth weekend, and the interviews I’ll do it. Do we have a truce? – He said.

Brienne looked at him with eyes full of suspicion. – Not whenever you feel like it. Right away. –  
– Fine. –  
– And you’ll publish the manuscript I gave you. – Brienne kept going.  
– Is ten thousand-  
– No. Twenty thousand copies, first run. And we’ll tell my family about our “engagement” when I want and how I want. Now, ask me nicely. –  
– What exactly, am I supposed to “ask you nicely”. – He mocked her.  
– Ask me nicely to marry you, Jaimie. – The blue in her eyes flashed with vengeance. _She does have astonishing eyes._

– What does that mean? – Jaime said, exasperated. He was a Lannister, they didn’t do anything “nicely”.  
– On your knee. – She gave him a closed mouth smile.  
Jaimie looked around, a voice that sounded like his father’s calling him pathetic ringing through his ears. He looked at his suit, the pavement, and then back at Brienne that was giving him a full grin. – Fine. – 

Jaime planted both knees on the ground, as gracefully as he was able. – Does this work for you? – He laced his voice with all the innuendo he could, determined to make her as uncomfortable as he felt.  
Brienne’s blush disappointed him for the first time in his life by not showing. – Yeah, I like this.–  
– Good. – Jaime said, pushing his hair away from his eyes. – Will you marry me? – Spit out as fast as possible.  
– No. – Brienne was throughly enjoying herself. – Say it like you mean it. – She ordered in a chastising voice that dripped sarcasm.  
Jaime looked at the floor and he asked himself if it was worth it. He concluded it was. He looked up again, to Brienne’s towering figure above him.  
– Brienne? –  
– Yes, Jaimie? –  
– Sweet Brienne? – He wanted to die.  
– I’m listening. – Her grin was absurd.  
– Would you please, with cherries on top, marry me? – It was his turn to be sarcastic.  
– I don’t really like your tone, but I’ll do it. See you at the airport tomorrow. –  
With that she turned around and was gone. 

Jaimie was still kneeling down on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a monster of a chapter by my usual standard but I couldn't find anywhere to cut it before. I'm sorry!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be updating on Saturdays!


End file.
